


Snapped

by AmberRunnel



Series: I'll be searching for closure forever [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author is a TommyInnit Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Dream needs to die in a hole, Except Dream, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Jack needs to face reality, Manipulative Relationship, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Swearing, Trigger Warning for Violence, Villain Dream is his own warning, implied/reference abuse, revivedInnit, these people need therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberRunnel/pseuds/AmberRunnel
Summary: “You don’t know what I went through in that prison cell.”Jack burst out laughing, blinded with rage and the overwhelming urge to hurt Tommy, to give him everything he deserved. “Oh, is the poor child traumatized? You want pity now?” He twisted his blade, and Tommy’s axe was sent clattering to the ground.“If the prison was so awful, why don’t I send you back there?”-|-Jack doesn't handle Tommy's revival well.There's a simple solution, though. Kill Tommy, and Dream revives him right back into that cell. Problem solved, kid dealt with.It takes a few confrontations for Jack to realize he's an asshole.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Series: I'll be searching for closure forever [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198106
Comments: 9
Kudos: 531





	Snapped

When Jack returned to see Tommy sitting at the reception desk of the hotel, something inside him snapped. “I told you to fucking get out,” Jack spat, and Tommy didn’t move. The expression on his face was more distracted than anything, and his eyes only flitted to Jack for a little bit.

“Sam Nook?” Tommy called. “Jack’s here again.”

The little animatronic walked dutifully to the desk, standing in between Jack and Tommy. Jack stared down at it with distaste, stepping right over its head so he could talk to Tommy face to face.

“I mean it,” Jack hissed. “You said you had bigger fish to fry. Deal with those.”

A mocking expression of hurt crossed Tommy’s face. “This is _my_ hotel,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’re not hired to help me anymore.”

“Hire?” Jack sneered, hand on the hilt of his sword. “You didn’t hire me for _shit._ You were using me as slave labor.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. He leaned down to reach the enderchest behind the counter and dumped half a stack of diamonds on the desk. “Here, then.”

Jack swept the diamonds clean off the desk and drew his sword. “Get out!” he screamed. 

Fury flitted behind Tommy’s eyes, desperate and unhinged. “This is my hotel!” he lashed out. “I’ve spent a month stuck in that fucking prison and you’re going to take this from me, too?” He drew his axe to meet Jack’s swing. “When will I have suffered enough for you?”

“You won’t,” Jack spat, kicking down the desk and backing Tommy into the corner. Had he been paying attention, he would have seen how Tommy flinched at every sudden movement—not just the swing of his sword, but with every bitter word and gesture. “I’ve lost _everything_ because of you. I was so _happy_ when I found out you were gone, and that was taken too. Dream had to go and _revive_ you when everyone would have been better off with you dead—”

“Shut up,” Tommy growled, voice low and arms straining under the force of Jack’s attacks. “You don’t know what I went through in that prison cell.”

Jack burst out laughing, blinded with rage and the overwhelming urge to _hurt_ Tommy, to give him everything he deserved. “Oh, is the poor child traumatized? You want pity now?” He twisted his blade, and Tommy’s axe was sent clattering to the ground. “If the prison was so awful, why don’t I send you back there?”

Tommy’s eyes widened as his arms went up to protect his face, but it didn’t matter. Jack had snapped by then—all it took was a single slash and Tommy clutched at his throat in shock. Blood dribbled through his fingers, and he swayed on his feet before crashing to the ground.

Jack stood over him, heaving for breath. Only when Sam Nook’s chittering voice rang from behind him did he realize it was still here, and the realization of what he’d done dawned on him gradually.

_I just killed Tommy._

Jack knew he’d be revived—Dream cared too much about his little puppet to leave him dead. But Jack had been stupid—he’d killed Tommy right in front of Sam Nook, who was likely going to spill everything.

 _Time to leave,_ he thought to himself, sheathing his sword before even cleaning the blood off. He darted off for the hotel entrance.

A shadow blocked the sun above him, and Sam landed with sword and trident in hand. The creeper gas mask stared Jack down through appalled eyes. 

Jack stared up at the warden, fully armored with gleaming netherite, and his heart sank.

The fury in Sam’s voice sent chills down his spine. “What did you do?” he growled, and Jack took a half-step back. Sam shoved past him and into the hotel, right to where Tommy was still dying on the ground. He was barely alive when Sam knelt beside him, but not for long. Sam only had time to grasp his hand in a pointless reassurance before Tommy’s eyes closed and he stopped moving. 

Jack didn’t dare move.

Sam turned on him, sword in hand, and Jack realized he had really fucked up.

* * *

Sam threw him into one of the main cells of the prison without ever saying a word. Jack stayed on the ground for a while, stripped of his armor and items, frustration and misery rotting in his chest. 

The silence stretched on for an hour.

* * *

Sam came back from the direction of the high-security cell alone. 

“Dream didn’t revive him?” Jack asked in confusion, leaning through the bars of the cell.

“No,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “Thanks to you, I have to stay there and call for Tommy until he's back, or else Tommy’s gonna be stuck in there with Dream again.”

Jack laughed carelessly. “Good.”

* * *

The entire night passed.

Still nothing.

And then— 

A pair of two quiet footsteps, one lighter than the other. Sneer on his face, Jack peered through the bars, waiting for Tommy to scream and yell curses at him. 

Sam led Tommy through the cell blocks carefully, and Jack’s heart stopped.

Tommy’s face was covered in blood, eyes empty and downcast as he stared down at the floor. Bruises colored his arms and neck, and his white shirt was stained red. Sam was holding his wrist gently, as Tommy’s fingers were crooked and bent the wrong way.

_He’s been in there for just a few hours._

Tommy looked up, right at him, and there was nothing in his eyes. They were empty.

“Well?” Jack demanded.

Tommy stepped closer to Sam and said nothing. He had no words.

Somehow, that was worse.

* * *

_Dream beat him._

Jack felt sick. He knew he shouldn’t—he’d killed Tommy, after all, slit his throat and hadn’t regretted it. At least, until now. All of Tommy’s injuries were Jack’s fault.

Were they really his doing, though? It had been Sam’s responsibility to get Tommy out of there after all. If Sam had done his job, Tommy wouldn’t have there long enough for Dream to hurt him.

Tommy deserved it anyway, didn’t he?

Didn’t he?

Jack didn’t get any food that evening. He was starving, too, but the hours stretched on and Sam didn’t come and give him anything.

“Sam?” he eventually yelled. “Sam? Sam!”

A few minutes later, Sam came up to his cell. “What?”

“I’m hungry,” Jack demanded. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

“For however long Tommy wants you to be here.” 

_Fucking hell._ Jack exhaled in frustration. “And how long is that?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sam said in worry. “Tommy hasn’t spoken a word since leaving the prison.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Jack lashed out, kicking the cot. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned against his trident. “Tommy’s been dealing with a lot recently. It may take him some time.”

“Oh really?” Jack asked, voice thick with sarcasm. “Poor kid is _traumatized,_ isn’t he? It’s your fucking fault he was in that cell for so long.”

“It is,” Sam said. “I called his name through the lava every ten minutes to see if he’d answer, as he always yelled for me before.”

“And he didn’t this time because?”

From Sam’s tone, he was having trouble keeping his voice steady. “Dream beat him every time he made a sound. I lowered the lava, and Tommy was on the ground as Dream was breaking his fingers, completely silent.”

Horror settled in Jack’s chest, heavy and painful. He didn’t have anything to say.

“Are you happy now?” Sam demanded, gesturing behind him. “Is this what you wanted? Did Tommy get what he deserved?”

Jack turned away. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

“He took _everything_ from me.”

“Like?”

Jack closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I went to visit him when he was exiled, and he shoved me into lava and I lost everything.”

Sam laughed humorlessly. “Do you know what Dream was doing to Tommy when he was exiled?”

Jack said nothing.

“You saw what happened to Tommy after only a few hours in prison with Dream. What do you think those months were like for him?”

Still nothing.

Sam stepped right up to the bars of the cell. “Dream _broke_ him,” he whispered. “He took away everything Tommy cared about. He had him thinking nobody cared, everybody was better off without him, that he deserved everything Dream was doing to him. Tommy almost killed himself.”

Each word made the guilt worse—Jack wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and drown it all out. He wanted to call Sam a liar, even though he knew it was all true. 

“What kind of mental state do you think Tommy was in when you came to visit him?” Sam demanded. “You, who deserted L’Manberg when they needed help the most. Of course he reacted impulsively. He probably assumed you were competent enough to survive the lava, if you had _everything_ on you.”

Jack, despite it all, remained silent.

“Go on,” Sam pressed. “Keep going. What else did Tommy do?”

“He started the conflicts with Dream,” Jack said, and it sounded pathetic. “He burnt George’s house—”

“—it took George all of an hour to fix, and Tommy suffered exile for it—”

“—he turned the front of my house into a chunk error.”

“It was _Dream!”_ Sam yelled, slamming his trident against the ground. _“Dream_ blew up L’Manberg! _Dream_ started the first war! Dream stole Tommy’s discs and threatened his friends and destroyed his home. _Dream_ caused your problems, not Tommy.”

When Jack didn’t move, Sam shook his head. “You’re pathetic,” he said simply, factually. “You’re the most pathetic person I’ve ever met. You can’t hurt Dream back for what’s happened to you, so you push all the blame onto an abused, manipulated, hurt sixteen year old kid.” He turned away, walking towards the vault door. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. I’ll let you know what Tommy decides when Puffy and I figure out how to get him to talk again.”

Jack hesitated. “Sam.”

Sam stopped.

“Can I talk to Dream?”

* * *

The lava trickled down slowly. 

Jack fought the urge to pace around after Sam snapped at him twice to stay on the platform, but his attention was captivated the second he could see Dream from across the chasm that split them. The mask’s empty smile stared back at him, and Dream stood up to face him as the platform whirred to life and brought Jack forward.

The netherite barrier between the two of them was never lowered. Jack didn’t care—he just wanted to talk. 

“Well, well,” Dream said easily. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He looked different than Jack remembered him: his hair was longer, almost shoulder length, and his green hoodie had been replaced with a black undershirt. There was something predatory in his body language, in the way he stepped forward to face Jack.

Jack shifted, trying to hide his uneasiness. “Who were you expecting?”

“Sam. Puffy. Not Tommy, for sure, but someone. Unless…” Dream’s head tilted to the side as he thought. Without warning, he started chuckling to himself. 

“What?”

“You’re the one who killed him, aren’t you?” Dream’s smile was audible in his voice. “You’re the one that sent him right back to me.”

“And so what if I am?”

Dream bowed his head. “I owe you thanks, then. It was getting boring around here.” He held his hand up to show Jack the dried blood still on his hands. “I had Tommy for longer than I expected, too. Sam never disappoints in being careless.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Says the man who slit Tommy’s throat.”

“I knew you’d revive him.”

Dream nodded, just once. “But you didn’t consider what would happen after, did you? It’s written all over your face—you’re appalled. You’re ashamed. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” 

Jack was already starting to hate this conversation. The way Dream could read him was uncanny, and despite the netherite barrier between them, Jack found himself feeling all too vulnerable. “What did you do to him?”

“You already know,” Dream said dismissively. “That’s not what you’re here for.” He held his hands up. “I’m here, aren’t I? Say what you want to say.”

“I want to know why,” Jack said bravely. “Why did you hurt him?”

Dream shrugged. “Why did you kill him?”

“I was rationalizing. It took seeing him beaten to realize I was being an asshole. But you, you don’t regret it.”

“Of course not,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“So why?”

“I’m _bored,”_ Dream complained, sweeping his hand back to gesture at his cell. “I wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to break Tommy again, was I? He’s so _fun_ to play with.”

Jack shook his head, stepping back. “You’re sick.”

“Everyone here is. I’m the only one who’s embraced it.” Dream leaned forward. “Tell me—has Puffy gotten him to talk yet?”

Jack stared at him wordlessly. 

“No?” Dream guessed. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it.” Dream shook his head in satisfaction. “I can’t wait to be out of here. I’m going to have so much _fun_ with all of you.”

“You’re never leaving this place.”

Dream nodded knowingly. “If it makes you sleep better to believe that, go ahead.”

“I’ll kill you myself if I have to.” Jack meant it a hundred percent—his hands were clenched at the thought, blood boiling—he’d drive his sword through Dream’s heart without a second thought. 

Dream shook his head in mock disappointment. “Dealing with delusions of grandeur now, Jack?” He turned away, circling his cell with measured steps.

“I’m leaving,” Jack decided. “Have fun rotting in here.”

Dream hummed in agreement. “Pass on a message to our dear warden, will you?” His voice was slow and amused, and it sent chills down Jack’s spine. “Tell him when I capture Tommy again, I’ll make Sam watch what I do to him.”

Jack stepped onto the platform without another word. He didn’t look back at Dream once.

* * *

The way back to his cell was in silence, for the most part. Jack broke it once, as they were approaching the main cell block. “I’m a bit screwed up, am I?”

Sam looked at him abruptly, in something that could have been surprise. “What did you talk to Dream about?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I think I do.”

Jack paused. “He said enough for me to realize he’s a complete psychopath.” He looked down at his feet. “And...he gave me a message to relay to you.”

“That, I don’t want to hear.”

Jack nodded in relief. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “Yeah, you don’t. Just…” he hesitated. “Keep Tommy safe, will you? You’ve kinda failed so far, but he’s really in danger.”

“You haven’t helped,” Sam said sharply.

“Yep,” Jack said heavily. “Yep, I know that.” He sat down on the cot in his cell, leaning his head against the wall as Sam locked his cell. The silence that followed was unbearable, but Jack bore it, because he finally realized he deserved it.

* * *

He woke up the next morning to the sound of his cell being unlocked.

“Get up,” Sam said unkindly.

Jack looked at him in confusion. “Where…”

“Tommy wants you released.”

Jack stepped back, uneasily. “So he spoke?”

“No.” Sam’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t want to let you out at first, but he ran off and vanished when I refused. Maybe this way, he’ll calm down a bit.”

Jack looked down in guilt, following Sam out of the cell silently. He knew he didn’t deserve to leave, but he was selfish. He didn’t like staying cooped up in that obsidian box. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could help.

Sam didn’t return his armor and weapons before letting him out of the prison, but Jack didn’t care. He wandered off as soon as he was out in the morning sunlight, drifting hesitantly towards the hotel. His first course of action would be to clear all his stuff out of the hotel and to Niki’s city, and then...if Tommy hadn’t reappeared by then, maybe Jack could help.

Sam Nook was waiting dutifully by the door as always, and didn’t regard Jack with any hostility. “Hi, Jack!” it chirped. “Do you require help with anything?”

“You haven’t seen Tommy, have you?”

To his surprise, the animatronic nodded. “Tommy entered the hotel about an hour ago, not long after Sam came to visit.”

Jack froze for a few seconds. _Call Sam. Call Sam._

Instead, he watched himself step into the hotel lobby. “Tommy?” he called out quietly.

No answer.

Jack shook his head and climbed up the ladder and to the other rooms, checking every suite before grabbing his stuff. He stepped behind the counter to drop off his room key, only to find Tommy curled up under the desk with his hands clamped over his ears.

“Tommy?” Jack whispered, stepping away from him.

Tommy didn’t move.

Jack hesitated before reaching out to put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy flinched at his touch. 

“Tommy, it’s me.”

Tommy looked up at him in anger. He mouthed something that could have been, _get out,_ but not a sound came from him. Even his breathing was inaudible.

“I’m getting my stuff and leaving,” Jack assured him, voice soft. “But Sam is looking for you. He’s worried.”

The next two words were very clearly, _fuck off._

“Should I call anyone?” Jack asked.

Tommy thought about it, then nodded.

“Sam?”

Tommy shook his head.

“Puffy?”

Still no.

“Tubbo?”

Still no.

Jack dug through the drawers for a quill and paper. “Can you write it down?”

The look Tommy gave him was so overwhelmingly hostile that Jack almost withered to spot. Tommy held up his hands, which were bandaged and splinted. _Dream broke his fingers._ Of course he couldn't fucking write. 

“Right,” Jack said sheepishly. He sat on the ground a few feet away, hands in front of him. “Listen, I…I know you don’t have any reasons to trust me, considering this is all my fault, but I don’t have any weapons or armor or...anything. Nothing’s going to happen if you talk.”

Tommy peered over the desk to ensure they were alone before hugging his arms to himself. “Technoblade.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Technoblade? Why?”

Tommy traced a smile in the air in front of him—Dream’s smile—and then drew his finger across his throat.

“You’re going to kill Dream.”

Tommy shrugged, as if that meant _close enough._

Jack smiled—a real smile, one that promised blood and death and _pain_. “Good.”


End file.
